their regiments to serve as couriers and messengers, and it was known throughout
France how highly Bonaparte valued his Polish troops, who added style and spirit to
what was, at this moment in time, the most broadly based multinational army in the
world. In the end, the guards saw what they expected to see, and Wessex and
Koscuisko passed through into Verdun.
„It won’t work for long,“ Wessex told his partner, as they rode up the street to
their assigned billet.
„I didn’t think you wanted to stay long,“ Koscuisko replied with elemental
simplicity.
Verdun was a city with every appearance of being under siege. Its wealthier
residences had become boarding houses for those who had the money to make their
incarcerations comfortable; the less fortunate were crammed into every crowded
corner of the medieval city. Every necessity of life was sold at a premium, and to
find one’s . self without money was to be tumbled into a life of an unspeakable level
of squalor.
The tension of the city’s inhabitants was a nearly tangible thing, composed of
narrow streets and patrolling sentries, of a. high wall and fates held in far-off Imperial
hands. When the war was over, the internees could leave Verdun. But whether they
would find a homeland to return to was another question for a day many of them
might not even live to see.
Wessex and Koscuisko checked in at their billet – despite the oppressive
crowding of the internment city, the provision for traveling officers was much what it
would have been anywhere in France – stabled their horses, and went on to a café to
plan their next move.
„Well?“ Koscuisko said bluntly, once he had been supplied with coffee and
cognac. He spoke French, though any other language would not have been out of
place here in this cosmopolitan city of refugees.
„You astonish me,“ Wessex said mildly. „We are in Verdun, and in desperate
need of gossip. Where else ought we to repair?“
There was a moment while Koscuisko digested this.
„Ah. I see. We are to visit Helicon, then.“
Wessex smiled.
* * *
Germaine de Staël, Baronne de Staël-Holstein, had been born in 1766 to a life of
wealth and privilege. An internationally acclaimed authoress, salonniere, and reigning
Toast of Europe’s intellectuals, she had been banished from France by the
Revolution and from Paris by the Directory. When that government fell in its turn,
Madame had returned at once to the Paris she so loved to become that most French
of paradoxes: an ardent Royalist who embraced the ideals of the Revolution.
In the name of both these loves, she had opposed every step Bonaparte had taken
toward the golden laurel crown of Empire, and when, two years before, he had
forbidden Madame to return to Paris, she had taken up residence in the walled city
simply to spite him, From Verdun she ran one of the most notorious underground
presses in all of Europe; according to rumor, its pamphlets and essays drove both
Napoleon and his unscrupulous handmaiden Talleyrand (satirized in the novel,
Delphine, which had occasioned her banishment) to utter distraction. Yet Bonaparte
dared not make himself appear altogether ridiculous by moving publicly against a
mere woman, one who, moreover, was a daughter of a hero of the Revolution,
banker Jaques Necker.
And so Madame de Staël recreated her famous Paris salons here in this
subjugated city, mocking the Emperor with her very existence.
It took Wessex and Koscuisko about an hour to reach Madame de Staël's house,
making their leisurely way through the streets of the city. Verdun as it had become
reminded Wessex of an Eastern city: crooked, crowded, and desperate. The butler
who opened Madame’s green-painted door was formidably correct in coquelicot
satin livery and powdered horsehair wig. The man did not so much as raise an
eyebrow at Koscuisko’s fantastic uniform, and took Wessex’s card in to his
mistress without a murmur. A moment later he was back to say that Madame would
see them both.
Wessex preceded his friend into Madame’s ground-floor salon.
The room had been painted with fantastic murals and furnished out of the
Arabian Nights. Trompe de l’oeil vistas recreated Madame de Staël's beloved Paris,
while the room itself was strewn with divans and cushions and contained ornaments
of the most fantastic nature, including an enormous green parrot chained to an ivory
perch and a tiny black monkey dressed in a copy of the servant’s livery which sat
upon Madame’s shoulder.
Now nearing her fortieth year, Madame de Staël was still a commandingly
handsome woman. Though the lustrous black curls turbanned in an Indian shawl
were touched with grey, she still retained the opulent figure and round white arms
that had made her known as much for her beauty as for her formidable intellect. She
extended a hand as Wessex entered.
„Reynard!“ she cried, in her hoarse beautiful voice. „So you are not dead!“
Wessex made a profound leg and bowed over Madame’s hand, kissing it
thoroughly. „Reports of my death – as so often – have been greatly exaggerated,
Madame. As you see, I journey instantly to your side to dispel them.“
„Willingly or no,“ Madame responded, darting a glance at his companion.
Wessex made the introduction, and Koscuisko launched into a voluble flood of
Polish. Wessex could not follow their conversation, but apparently Madame was
well enough versed in that language to be able to blush in it. She shook her head,
laughing.
„Abominable boy!“ she declared in French. „But it is good to know I am still
read.“
„Madame knows that her greatest triumphs are still before her,“ Koscuisko
responded gallantly, „and one hears rumors of a masterwork to come – a German
history?“
„Young flatterer!“ Madame declared roundly. „Yes, I am still writing – much as
That Man in Paris would wish that I were not. But come! We shall have tea, and you
may tell me all the news of the larger world which I am denied.“
For fully an hour conversation turned upon events in Paris and the Continental
war. Madame was not so uninformed as she would have herself appear, and her
reputation as the foremost conversante in Europe was well deserved. The discussion
ranged from the rights of man to the necessity of government, touching occasionally
upon the inequities suffered by Verdun’s internees. At last Wessex turned the
conversation toward the purpose of his visit.
„Shocking indeed. One wonders how much longer the Corsican can expect to
send people here without allowing any to leave. One feels there must be some limit to
the numbers poor Verdun can accommodate,“ he said.
„Indeed,“ Madame said, cutting a sly unbeguiled glance toward the man she knew
as the Chevalier de Reynard. „Not tihree weeks past we were forced to accept a
positive deluge of Anglais whose ship was blown ashore near Calais. And what is
most infamous is that it was a Danish ship, and though Denmark trades freely with
France, her officers were likewise imprisoned, her men impressed, their ship
impounded. It is more than shocking – it is infamous!“
„Infamous indeed,“ Wessex agreed smoothly, though his heart was racing with
the excitement of a fresh scent. „But no doubt a temporary annoyance? Once the
Captain applies to the Danish ambassador, his release and that of his crew are
assured, are they not?“
„So one would think, M’sieur le Chevalier, though the post from Verdun is read
by the commander of the garrison, and letters are often stopped. Yet if I were to tell
you that this was a consular vessel carrying members of the Royal family of
Denmark to a meeting in England to seal a treaty that would bring Denmark into the
Grand Alliance that opposes my poor France while she languishes in the grip of that
madman…?“
„Then I should not be surprised that Bonaparte holds this ship and all who sailed
hi her, for where Denmark goes, the rest of the League of Armed Neutrality will
surely follow,“ Wessex said. „Russia has already done so.“
„And Denmark dares not take the opposite side of a Russian quarrel, lest the Tsar
use the excuse to gobble her up – so!“ Madame said, snapping her ringers to
illustrate her point. „But they do not hold all those who sailed upon this ship. So it is
said,“ Madame finished. She selected a sweetmeat from the tea tray before her and
offered it to her costumed monkey. The little creature took the sugared walnut and
bounded away with the tidbit, retreating to the top of a gilt-framed mirror to devour
its treasure.
„If it is said, Madame, I make no doubt that it has been said to you,“ Wessex said
gallantly. „For everyone knows that you are the eyes, the ears, the conscience of
France. I do not doubt that it would be most diverting to make the acquaintance of
these folk. But only if they are entertaining. Saving yourself, Madame, who are an
oasis in a desert, I find myself nearly dead of boredom.“
„My poor Reynard!“ Madame cooed, and laughed her throaty laugh. „You will be
more than bored once you have spent a few weeks here.“
„Alas,“ Wessex said lightly, „I fear that my sojourn here is much briefer than that.
I vow that I have come only to see you.“
„But my dear man – “ Madame said, and stopped. „You will be leaving Verdun?“
„Almost instantly,“ Wessex said. „If the Jacks do not find me here, of course.“
Madame made a moue of distaste at the mention of the Red Jacks. „If it is as you
say, there is a trifling commission you can discharge for me, if you will. In return, I
promise to alleviate your boredom, if you will do me the honor of dining with me this
evening. And bring your handsome friend, of course.“
Extending one glittering, bejeweled hand, Madame achieved the yellow velvet
bellpull and rang it vigorously.
Wessex was already standing. „It will be the greatest delight of my heart,
Madame. You may depend upon it“
By any standards – let alone those of embargoed Verdun – the meal that evening
was lavish, beginning with clear soup and sherry and proceeding to the highest
pinnacle of the gastronome’s art They were seven for supper, and Madame had not
stooped to the empty conventionality of a balanced table. She was the only woman
present.
Koscuisko had shed his uniform for an evening suit of an even more peacock
splendor than his Hussar’s garb, and even the Chevalier de Reynard had found it
incumbent upon himself to blossom, in part, through the good offices of his fellow
internees, in an aubergine silk coat, oriental brocade waistcoat, and dove-colored
breeches ornamented with steel-cut buttons. The party might have been any
gathering in any metropolis – but there was always the undercurrent of tension
peculiar to the walled city.
And as Madame had promised him, Wessex was amused.
The party consisted of Wessex and Koscuisko, and four others: Captain Rytter,
formerly master of the Queen Christina; Lord Valentine Grant, the engaging
redheaded scion of one of England’s noblest families; a Belgian divine named
Poirot; and Sir John Adams, King Henry’s envoy to the Danish court. Dinner was
conducted in French.
Wessex studied Sir John closely, thanking his lucky stars that he and Sir John had
never formally met. It would not do for Sir John to know him as the Duke of
Wessex when he was here upon the pretext of being the Chevalier de Reynard – but
then, even if Sir John should recognize Wessex, the old fox was far too sly to tip his
hand. King Henry’s envoy had this very year achieved the Biblical threescore and
ten, but his gadfly vigor showed no sign of abating. He had been born in England’s
North American colonies, and his forthrightness and persistence had seen . his rise in
the Foreign Service to this most delicate of all posts. If Sir John was in any wise
discomfited by this abrupt change in his fortunes, Wessex could discern no sign of
it.
And Captain Rytter’s presence at Madame de Stael's table was living proof that
Wessex had been right The Christina had been somehow waylaid, and shipwrecked
on the inhospitable shores of France.
It was not unreasonable that conversation should dwell upon such an unfair
misfortune, and so Wessex learned that the Christina had sailed into a fogbank, only
to sail out of it upon the coast of France, hundreds of miles from heir last position.
„And I am afraid the French did not believe anything of my explanation,“ Captain
Rytter said regretfully. „For we were taken and boarded over our protests, the men
impressed and the rest of us sent here to Verdun. I am afraid that the Kronprinz